For decades, Barbara's husband made her follow 'rules'. Only now does she understand what they meant.

Warning: this post discusses domestic and family violence.

Barbara* and her husband, Pete*, were high-school sweethearts. Peter was Barbara's first love, and an eventual progression to marriage was not only desired, but expected.

It was the seventies, and back then, there was nothing remarkable about marrying the first boy you seriously dated. It was just what you did. "We didn't have many choices, as it all followed a formula," says Barbara. 

"But we were comfortable and happy enough I guess. I'm not sure I expected more or had options for anything else back in those days."

Watch: You Can't Ask That - Domestic And Family Violence Survivors Answer, Why Didn't You Just Leave? Article continues after the video.

For many years, their relationship was easy, carefree, normal. At least, that's what Barbara thought at the time. Like all relationships, things became more difficult when children came along. Money was tight, and Barbara directed her love and attention towards her kids. 

"We weren't that different to the couples around us." 

But what Barbara described as normal back then, she now realises was anything but. "He was always jealous and controlling of my time and our resources like money," she says. 

"There were always rules that I just followed to keep the peace. I couldn't spend frivolously—which meant not spending on myself at all. 

"I would buy the kids' clothes and remove the tags and lie about the prices. Small things, but devious to keep the peace. It didn’t seem to matter so much then."

At the time, having to follow rules didn't seem abnormal. There were many women doing exactly the same thing.

"That's just who he was. It was never labelled or given a name."

When the children were young, Barbara was almost too busy to notice. Too busy to worry about it, anyway. Eventually though, the children left the family home, and Pete's controlling behaviour — his rules — began to weigh on Barbara. She was weary, worn down, but she didn't quite know why. But as public awareness around domestic abuse, and in particular, coercive control, increased, something flickered in Barbara. 

Was there a life without control? Without fear? A life without isolation and insecurity?

"I constantly felt worthless, as if I had to amend myself to fit his expectations. But we [were raised to believe that] we made our beds and now had to lie in them."

As the years passed, Barbara became more withdrawn, but that flicker inside her continued to burn. She didn't want to look back at her best years with regret, so one day, she garnered the courage to speak to her husband, to ask him if they could start spending a little more time and money on themselves, now they were older. But that only made him tighten the reins — on the money, and her—even harder. 

"My friends noticed and would comment," says Barbara. "I felt trapped and I was afraid of leaving, so there was a period of immense distress for me that I went through privately."

Barbara says recognising abuse can be difficult for older women who grew up during a time where abuse was not only excused, but even when wasn't justifiable, many turned a blind eye. 

"Even when we suspected a woman was being hit, or a husband was an alcoholic—we didn't interfere or push our agenda on them," says Barbara. 

In her late sixties, and with the support of her network of friends, Barbara finally had the courage to leave her husband. 

"The biggest shock was reflecting on the marriage and the abuse I had always taken as normal or made excuses for."

The invisible demographic. 

At least nine women over the age of 60 have been murdered by men's violence in 2024. But these deaths rarely make the front page news. They rarely enter the community dialogue. They don't generate the same level of rage, and demand for justice. 

Director of the Monash Gender and Family Violence Prevention Centre, Associate Professor Bridget Harris, says the neglect of older victims extends beyond media coverage to wider society, and even the justice system.

"There is a real reluctance to acknowledge that vulnerable women—people’s parents and grandparents—are unsafe," says Professor Harris. "I would also note that there is less focus too, on non-white women in the media. There has always been more focus and attention on 'ideal victims' and younger, white women in particular."

Professor Harris says she's also aware of numerous 'horror stories' within the justice system. 

"Responses to women with dementia or Alzheimer’s, for instance, that they 'won’t remember' the abuse they have experienced, so no action is needed," she says. 

"Or that they are unreliable witnesses, or incapable of making statements. Instead of thinking about how systems fail these women, there is almost an implication that they are failed victims."

Unique challenges. 

Regardless of age, perpetrators use a range of tactics, strategies and channels—which are individualised — to entrap or restrict a victim-survivor. Many victim-survivors of domestic and family violence, particularly those experiencing non-physical abuse, will have encountered both community and systemic dismissal or minimisation of their abuse. 

As well as external attitudes and neglect, older victim-survivors of domestic and family violence also face internal barriers too, thanks to a lifetime of abuse that has been internalised as normal.

"Women’s partners may have framed the abuse as 'taking care' of them in a 'traditional way', or adopted traditional gender roles, which can see men suggesting they control finances, households, vehicles etc as 'head of the house'," Professor Harris says.  

"In this setting and, if they have had caring responsibilities, women may have limited access to their own money, housing and alike, which can mean that it is incredibly difficult to exit a violent relationship."

Currently, there isn't enough housing or support for women experiencing violence, says Professor Harris.

"There are limited services available specifically for older victim-survivors, especially in regional, rural or remote areas," she says.

"This age group of people women may have had high caring responsibilities, and the breakdown of relationships or attempts to exit violent relationships can result in them experiencing homelessness for the first time."

The digital divide is a further challenge for older adults who face connectivity, cost and capability barriers in relation to technology.

"This is especially an issue in times of crisis, like in COVID-19 lockdowns, when a lot of services shifted to online, and in the aftermath of natural disasters, which are an issue particularly in regional, rural and remote locations," she says.

"Victim-survivors in smaller communities, or where they might know people they would disclose DFV or seek information or support from may prefer to reach out anonymously, or to a service not in their physical area. That option is challenging, if you do not have access to or do not feel comfortable using devices or digital accounts."

And for older women with physical, cognitive or intellectual disabilities or health concerns, it can be difficult to access a physical service. 

"Taboos and shame can be an impediment to help-seeking too, including for victim-survivors who are seen as leaders or pillars in their communities or families."

The slow femicide.

Much of the dialogue around domestic and family violence fails to capture the lasting and ongoing physical, emotional, psychological and financial effects of violence, says Professor Harris.

According to Professor Harris, the long-term impact on older women who have endured a lifetime of abuse, is sometimes described as the Slow Femicide.

"Older women are victims of fatal violence, what we call the 'slow femicide'," she says.

"The quality of life costs [these women experience] — also referred to as 'living death' — is undocumented, but a reality for older victim-survivors of DFV."

Professor Harris says society often fails to properly recognise trauma, particularly in the justice system. 

"So victim-survivors are judged for how they present—their emotions, memory, state of being, for instance—instead of recognising that how they present is showing evidence of trauma. Our systems need to be trauma-informed."

Barbara believes if it weren't for the support of her adult children, she would have remained in her abusive marriage. Now she's left though, Barbara says she's able to recognise unhealthy relationships, and is sharing her story to remind women that it's never too late to escape. 

"I hope to help other women my age find their strength to leave — cause life is way too short."

If this has raised any issues for you, or if you just feel like you need to speak to someone, please call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732)—the national sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling service.

Mamamia is a charity partner of RizeUp Australia, a national organisation that helps women, children and families move on after the devastation of domestic and family violence. Their mission is to deliver life-changing and practical support to these families when they need it most. If you would like to support their mission you can donate here. 

*Names have been changed.

Feature image: Getty.